


Make the best of a situation

by BoyceAvenue



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, M/M, gets kinda fluffy, happy 4/13, tavros' POV, this is mainly tavros reminiscing about life with gamzee tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyceAvenue/pseuds/BoyceAvenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that gay marriage is legal in Nevada, that mean drunk dudes in Las Vegas can accidentally get married?</p>
<p>Alternatively titled; Tavros has gay thoughts about Gamzee whilst drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the best of a situation

**Author's Note:**

> Boyce, your headcanons are showing
> 
> This focuses heavily on University life. 
> 
> Kudos, comments etc are very much appreciated! Enjoy!

Another shot, another game. Hell yeah this was the shit, out in Las Vegas with your bestest bro in the universe, Gamzee. And what better way to spend it than in a casino getting smashed? Sure, you probably won’t remember anything tomorrow, but right now the night was as young as the two of you kids, fresh out of college.

You had graduated with a degree in animal biology and veterinary care, and Gamzee had gotten a degree in fine arts. You were surprised when he had first told you about his course choice, approximately 3 years ago when you were ushered into student accommodation on campus together. To be truthful, you were surprised because Gamzee didn’t exactly look like he could afford to take a course that was so open, and didn’t really have a guaranteed job at the end of it. Not that people couldn’t make a living on art, but it wasn’t the most secure of career paths, and with the state of him, you would have guessed he would need a secure income.

Turns out he was doing his degree just because he could and liked art. Fucking rich people. That shocked you more than anything, really. With that birds nest of dark blonde curls on his head that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in at least a good few months, tired blue eyes and the white and grey juggalo paint slather on his face, he didn’t look like your typical first class kid. He scared you at first, to be brutally honest. Which was silly because you’re like 5 inches taller than him and he’s tiny and actually the best person you’ve ever met ever.

You think your course choice made sense though. You’ve always liked animals, it ran in your family. Your dad had opened an animal shelter in California when you moved there from Spain when you were 6. You had always begged your dad for new pets every so often throughout your childhood and way into your teenage years. Despite being a total push over, your dad never gave in to your resilient pleading. You did get a dog in the end, an English bulldog, which you had affectionately named Tinkerbull. An appropriate name, you thought.                                                               

Gamzee was from the south of Texas, which didn’t surprise you at all. Like, at all. The two of you went to a college in Nevada, which made a celebratory trip to Las Vegas a perfect end to your school lives. You had been saving for some time for this trip. Gamzee hadn’t but he just took some money from daddy’s wallet and he was set. Except from having unlimited funds, he didn’t really flash around his wealth or think he was better than you for not being from a particularly wealthy background. (Your family was pretty comfy now though, dad’s animal shelter had done quite well over the years).

That’s probably helped the two of you get on so well. Granted, he scared the shit out of you at first, and you were dreading the next 3 years you would have to spend living with this strange juggalo child. When you first met Gamzee and were faced with the reality of living with him, so many situations clouded your mind. He smelt strongly of weed, oh god was he going to do drugs in your tiny student flat? You bet he’s the kind of guy to walk around and sleep naked. Was he going to smoke inside the apartment? You bet he was going to be out all night partying and having sex, like a lot of college kids. Was he going to be aggressive or rude to you for the next three years??

In hindsight, your worrying was for nothing, and admittedly, you feel kind of guilty about making so many assumptions about him. You chatted about it one night when you two had become good friends, and he just laughed at your first impressions of him. A genuine laugh that told you he wasn’t mad at you for thinking he was a drug addict, or being aggressive. He did, however, stay up all night and sleep all day (unless he had a class). Not because of wild partying or some equally wild sex, but because Gamzee’s sleeping pattern was way messed up. You think he has some form of insomnia, but he tells you he’s always slept funny. One thing you did know is the boy took a gosh darn lot of naps.

He respected you as a person, and a friend, unlike some people in the past. And, in good manner, you did the same. Turns out basic roommate etiquette helped you two get comfortable with each other, and then from there on out you two bonded at a fast pace. You shared interest in things like video games, and music. You can cook savoury foods, and he makes the best damn pancakes you’ve ever known. You make a pretty good living pair, you think, because of how your strengths balanced out the others weaknesses, and vice versa.

Although you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were really going to miss living with him. Since you two have finished school now, you have to go your separate ways. Sure you can keep in touch, but it won’t be the same. Waking up and trudging towards the kitchen and seeing your best friend making some kind of delicious breakfast was something you had grown to love. You had become accustomed to spending a good few hours just chilling with him on the weekends, eating takeout pizza and having lame rap offs and watching all your favourite movies. He really was fun to be around, the way he smiled his lazy smile at you whenever you looked his way, or the way he was always up to talk to you, and never seemed annoyed by your presence. You would have thought that seeing someone almost every day for 3 years who wasn’t family would have gotten on your tits, but there was always something new to talk about with Gamzee, so you never grew tired of him. You think the sentiment is reciprocated.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You think you see Gamzee approaching you. You think. Everything’s pretty blurry. You’ve drunk a lot of alcohol, and Gamzee had consumed possibly more. You do in fact identify the black and white blotch as your friend when you hear his too loud voice ring out in your hearing range.

“He-, hey, Tavros. Buddy, pal… My main brother.”

Oh boy is he a mess. It was probably 11 pm now, everything was in full swing and at its peak, all the lights and games. You felt pretty sorry for the staff having to weave their way through crowds of people with drinks on platters carefully balanced on their arms. You could go for another drink right now. Wait, wasn’t Gamzee talking to you? Yeah he was, oh wait he’s not anymore. He was just looking at you with big eyes like he was expecting you to say something. Was he?

.... Oh yeah he was. Shit what did he say? Did it matter? Probably. Was he asking you if you wanted another drink? Even more probably. So you just said your honest answer to the latter.

“Hell yeah I do!”

“Sweet! I think this is.” He pauses and makes a slow grab for your hand, “This Iss a good idea, brotheer, I can feel it. In my bones.”

His speech was slurring slightly. An indication that it might be wise to lay off the booze for a little while, but whatever. You were in Vegas, you weren’t going to not drink your ass off.

And with that, Gamzee was dragging you through the casino, and to the bar. You thought.                                                                                                                                 But as you passed the bar, you looked at him. He was holding your hand tightly in his smaller, much paler hand. Gamzee was really pale, actually. His hand look almost porcelain against your dark caramel skin. You thought his skin was pretty though, it made him look kind of… doll like? He has nice hair. He uses some fancy fruity shampoo, too. Over the years you’ve smelt it a lot from when he sits with you under a big duvet in the winter. (Sometimes you stole some from the shelves in your shared bathroom, though you would rather die than admit your adored the smell of that shampoo).                                                                                                                 His locks are blonde and curly and thick. You think they look especially nice right now, because you managed to convince him to brush it before the two of you came out this evening, and as a result the curls are loose and shiny.

He told you one day that he used to dye his hair jet black in high school to ‘fit in’. You can’t imagine him with black hair at all. The dirty blonde suited his eyes and made him look younger than he actually was. Although maybe he just has a baby face.

 

Where is he taking you? Is that the exit? What, no, you didn’t want to leave yet, it wasn’t that late, was it? Maybe it was later than you thought. You were sure it was around 11 just now… Maybe Gamzee was just looking out for you. For all you know it could be 3 am and he’s taking you back to the hotel before you could make a massive fool of yourself.

You weren’t excited for tomorrow. You were going to have the mother of hang overs, you just knew it. But it was kind of okay because you could spend all day lounging in that posh hotel room that Gamzee had brought. And to top it off, you could order room service and just sleep up next to your best friend all day if you wanted.

Actually, you were kind of excited for tomorrow.

Come on, Tavros. Focus. Where was this guy taking you? You realised you were walking down the wet street now. How long had you zoned out for?                             He was walking a step in front of you, still holding your hand.                                          …His hands were a lot softer than you thought they were. Does he moisturise? You hadn’t seen any around the apartment, so probably not. But if his hands were this soft you wonder about the rest of his body. He probably has soft lips. He has a soft face, you knew this from sitting close to him during heavy thunderstorms, and so having nice soft lips would make sense, you guess…

Wow okay that was gay. Come on Tavros, concentrate.

Where are you going? A white building? There’s a glitzy sign outside, but your vision is too blurred to read it. Is it a bar maybe? Perhaps a smaller casino. That would make sense. You get kind of twitchy in large crowds, maybe Gamzee was taking you to a quieter place? He did have a knack for remember little things about you. Like how you didn’t like the yellow M&Ms, or that your favourite dessert is chocolate torte.

Damn you could so go for some chocolate right now…

 

When you got inside, it obviously wasn’t a bar, or a casino. It was quite cute, really. It was white and pink and there were flowers everywhere. You’d never seen a place like this before. It looked like a homely café or something.

Gamzee looked at you. He has freckles on the bridge of his nose. You were a sucker for freckles, you really were. He was looking you in the eyes. He looks tired, but smiles nonetheless. He walks away from you and goes to a desk where some lady was sitting. What were they talking about? Eh, it probably doesn’t affect you much. Before you know it he’s back at your side, and walking you to the desk. The lady has a rather shrill voice, and your forming headache _really_ doesn’t appreciate that. She hands you some papers. What are these for? Fuck knows. Does Gamzee know? He laughs. He is so drunk. But so are you so its fine, and you laugh too.

You look back at the papers, and see Gamzee’s signature is already written down. You look at him and he giggles, and sways a bit, holding your arm for support. You don’t want him falling over or anything, so you swing an arm around his shoulders, and are reminded how small he is. He’s not really that small, but you’re tall and broad, whereas Gamzee’s slender and average heighted. Tall ass Nitrams. Ran in the family.

You sign the paper slowly. You were getting really tired now. Like really, really tired. You think Gamzee is going to sleep well tonight, for once.                                              The lady takes the papers, stamps them, you think, and says something like ‘congratulations’ with a smile. She looked so done. If it really was 3 am than you don’t really blame her.

Gamzee hugs your side. And you hug back. You’re not sure what the lady was congratulating. Maybe she was congratulating the fact you had managed to stay awake for so long. The hotel room was sounding good right now. Really good. Memory foam bed and all. God how you loved that bed.

Gamzee took your hand again, and exited the building, taking the papers with him. What were those papers anyway? Maybe it was novelty thing for tourists in Vegas, where people wrote an ‘I’ll be by your side for ever’ kind of thing.

Was Gamzee going to miss you like you were going to miss him? Maybe that was just a little thing to say you two were going to stay in touch and be best friends forever. Haha, how sweet. You could totally see yourself being friends with Gamzee forever. He was such a good person. Heck you would totally marry the guy if he would let you, just so you could keep being as close as you were right now.

The two of you laughed and swayed your way to the hotel holding each other for support. You were so ready for that bed, and all that room service tomorrow. Ahh yes, room service straight to your door.

You were going to eat so, so much.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up to a groan and some shuffling. And then the covers getting ripped from your tired arms. Damn, it was chilly in here.

You turn around to find where your covers had been taken off to. You thought you had a pretty good idea…

And there they were. Curled around Gamzee’s small frame on the other side of the bed. You were fully aware that Gamzee was a cover hog. And a bed hog in general. With those long spindly limbs he really cover a lot of surface area. You think he was stirring now, though, because he was making audible noise and folding his legs into his chest.

“Hey. Good morning sleeping beauty.” You call softly. He probably had a hangover similar to yours, if not worse, “Do you want some aspirin?”

He makes a sound which you guess was a yes, so you get up and rummage through your bag to look for some. The hotel room had a desk on one side with a radio, a TV, a kettle and a mini fridge. As well as these, papers and random objects were strewn atop the surface. All the papers were boring ass things. All Gamzee’s probably, with bookings and stuff.

Then you spot one folded up pile of paper, with what looks like a red stamp. You couldn’t see it fully due to where it was curved, but you were interested to say the least.

You fished a can of drink out of the fridge and took it to Gamzee who was now propped up on his elbows on the bed, looking out of the slightly ajar window. The clock on the wall read 11:15am. You must have gotten in late because you defiantly had not been asleep that long. Or maybe that was just the alcohols effect.

He swallowed the pills easily and set the can to the side and looked to you. At this point you had already returned to the piece of mysterious paper, and were folding it out so to read it.

“What’s that, motherfucker?” he questions. You shrug at him, and analyse the document properly.

…

“Gamzee…,”

“Yeh?”

“What is this?” You look at him. Was this piece of paper saying what he really thought it was saying??                                                                                                       You pass it to where he was now perked up on the bed. He takes the sheet and reads it.

….

“Ahahaha oh my god…” He starts, “Tavros we, we accidently got married holy shit” The little fucker was snorting with laughter on the bed.

You slumped back on the bed with an ‘oh my god’ with your face down.

No way had you actually gotten drunkenly married to your best friend. No. Fucking. Way.                                                                                                                                             You were only 21! He was only 21! What would your dad think?!

You mean, that was the only time you had fully allowed yourself to let yourself go like that. You had always heard storied of people doing stupid shit whilst drunk, and wow you sure had freakin’ trumped that list.

All whilst you were having this miniature panic attack, Gamzee was just sat there, pissing himself. He was wheezing with laughter.

You scanned the document once more. And you sighed because there was no way you could just ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ this one, because this was a legitimate legal document. When you applied for a job, you would have to fill in that little box that says ‘spouse’ with the name ‘Gamzee Makara’ rather than the N/A you thought you would be writing in that little box for years to come. But nope! You had to go and get yourself married to your bro. Well done Tavros, you win the award of the year for most reckless life choice ever made.

 

Once Gamzee had calmed down from his laughing fit, you sit with him against the headboard in silence. You think the reality of the situation has started setting in on him a little more.

 

“…Do you think we should get a divorce?” He asks quietly.

“..Probably...”

 

 Silence.

He shifts to move his body in your direction and looks at you. You feel his eyes scanning your every feature.

“Divorces are horrible, you know,” He practically whispers, “my parents had one when I was a youngin’. It was terrible. Made ‘em both sad for months.”

You turn your head to look into his eyes.

“So what, you think we shouldn’t get a divorce because it made your parents unhappy?” It would be a lie to say you weren’t freaking out over this issue. You felt yourself raising your voice slightly, getting angry, even though you didn’t intend to. How could he be so relaxed about all of this? Should you be more relaxed?

“’m not sayin’ that. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“…Well. We’ve already done and gotten ourselves hitched. We might as well roll with it for a little bit?” His voice goes quiet at the last part.

“…. Roll with it…?”

“Yeah. I mean, we don’t have to, if you really don’t want to, but we’ve already gotten ourselves here, and it’s not like were some strangers to each other, Tav,” He sits up and crosses his legs, bed sheets scattered across the mattress, looking straight at you with those blue star feature eyes, “We’ve been living together for the past 3 years, bro. We’ve shared all our shit, and know a ton of stuff about of each other. And I know that ain’t all that marriage is, but it isn’t that far off...We know each other’s likes and dislikes. How we take our coffee and how we like our music. I’m not saying that we’re made to be married, but maybe this is a sign of some sort, Tav. Some kind of miracle telling us we should try this whole married shindig, brother, together.”

Gamzee was always a believer of fate and destiny. He often talked to you about how things could change, but you just had to go along with them, because there was no way of stopping them. He also kind of had a point. A lot of your friends had commented on how close the two of you were. And maybe it was intended that you two got accidently married in Las Vegas one Saturday evening. Maybe it was fate that you two went on to become a happily married couple, or alternatively, you were destined to break it off in the end.

Circumstances could be worse, you decided. You could have married some random ass stranger out of the 1000s you saw yesterday. If it was fate to get married last night, at least it was to someone who already knew you inside and out, (metaphorically) and who you considered your most favourite person.

Maybe, just maybe, you could go along with this. Or roll with it, as Gamzee had said. If things didn’t work out, then fine, things didn’t work out. But now that you’re already married, things might work out. And if they do then, great, you’ve just prematurely married your life partner. Gets that out of the way for the future, you guess.

Jeez, you can’t believe you’re saying this. You cannot believe you are agreeing to Gamzee’s suggestion of “rolling with it”. But after a good half hour of mulling over it, you do, and as soon as the words leave your lips his eyes light up and he jumps into your lap and gives you a hug you feel as though you’ll have bruises from if he squeezes any harder.

Well at least he’s enthusiastic? You think this’ll be okay. You can make this work. And secretly a little part of you is excited. You wish you could actually remember the wedding, though.

“Hey, zee?”

“Yeah, bro?”

“I am so, so hungry.”


End file.
